45th Hunger Games
by writing-noobie
Summary: Training has finally been popularized but has our hero had enough time to gain the skills necessary to win?


**A/N hey guys! First story by me Writing-noobie and we hope you like it! =] anyway here it is!**

Screaming, that's the only way to describe how I wake up every morning. This time it's my four year old brother, Ben. Last night when Ben got home from training my father was too drunk to look at the scores he got. Now my father is awake, not drunk and even worse, angry. He was slapping Ben repeatedly and yelling, "A thirty-five in archery? You should be better! You're the son of a victor, you whelp!"

I feel someone push past me. It's my eight-year old sister Jennifer. She knocks the knife out of Father's hand and yells, "Leave him alone! It's not his fault he isn't a very good fighter!" Horrified, I run up behind her to stop her. She doesn't notice me and continues yelling. "He's only four. He shouldn't even be in tr-" I put her in a headlock and clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her into the hall. "What do you think you're doing" I snarled. "Don't you remember how you got those?" I motioned to the scars slashed diagonally across her face. "I'll handle this," I said. I went back out to find my dad picking up the knife and bringing it back over to Ben, who was cowering in a corner. I instantly thought of my mom who had done the same thing as Ben.

My father was just sitting in a chair drinking. The pile of glass and empty bottles at his feet showed how long he'd been at it. At the moment Jenn had the bad luck to sneeze while walking past the room. My father jerked awake and dropped the bottle he was drinking from on his foot and cried in pain. He stared at the glass at his feet in anger. "Jennifer you brat!" he screamed "get in here!" he pointed to the glass at his feet "what's the meaning of this? Pick up your mess brat!" She doesn't move to do as he says, "But father, you did this when you were drunk," she said and turned to walk away but my father growled in rage and grabbed her. "Don't cross me brat! I'll show you what happens when you disrespect me!" he shouts. He pulls out his knife and Jennifer realizes what he's going to do and screams for mom. He throws her to the ground and jumps on her. Jenn's screaming waivered for a second when she hit the ground but starts screaming even louder when my father draws the blade across her forehead. He continues cutting her face until my mother runs and pushes him over he stands up and they immediately start yelling at each other. Jennifer crawls over to me and I help her get up, I rush her to her room and bandage her face and put a poultice on it like mom taught me. I've finished and I'm putting the bandages and herbs away when the shouting from downstairs stops and is replaced by mom's screaming. I stand there petrified until the screaming stops. I dash downstairs and watch my father walk out the door. I rush into the room he was and gape in horror. My mom's cowering in the corner covered in slashes and cuts. The worst is a deep cut in her neck. I stumble over and sit next to her. "Mom! Are you ok?" I cry. She tilts her head at me and I see a tear running out of one of her eyes. "Tell… Leaum and… and Jenn that I love them…" she gasps, "And protect Ben… and teach how to talk… I love you…" and then she shudders and stops moving. Tears start to flow out of my eyes no matter how much I try to stop them. "Mom! Mom! Don't go!" I sob. I sit down next to her and curl up in a ball.

I wipe a tear out of my eye. That was 4 years ago when I was 13, now I am 17. "Dad!" I say, "It's time for the reaping!" He snarls and draws the knife down Ben's arm. My father walks towards me and and snarls, "I hope you get picked. The kids are gonna grow weak with you babying them!" "Shut up and go pass out in a ditch," I replied. He growled at me and walked out of the room and I walked over to Ben. "You okay?" I ask as I took some herbs and turned them into a poultice to put on his arm. There were tears in his eyes as he replied, "Why is daddy so mean?" "I don't know, Ben, I don't know." "Kento please don't get picked" whispered a voice from the doorway. There was Leam, poor Leam, the worst scarred of us all. He actually didn't have a single visible scar on him. No, Leam's scars ran much deeper. Father went a step farther on him. He hurt him mentally. Leam used to show so much promise before mom died. Now he jumps at any voice besides me, Jenn, and Ben's. He doesn't get very good scores in training which makes it worse. "Don't worry," I said, "I have no tesserae so it's a little unlikely I'll get picked and you only have one slip in. Everything will be fine."

I'm being put with the other seventeen year olds and some of the adults, including my father, are betting on who will go to the Games. I notice my father pointing to me and money exchanges hands. A wave of pure hate washes through me. This man is not my Father. This is a man who tortures my family and killed the person closest to me. My mother. I will always hate him. I look at Jango, my closest friend, and he smiles at me. I smile back and give him a small nod. I see our escort, Miranda Doren, walking up on stage and walking over to the boy's bowl and says, "I thought we'd start with the boys this time." She reaches into the bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. I hold my breath and she reads the name. "Leam Flint!"

**A/N WOW CLIFFHANGER!1! Sorry I've always hated those so I wanted to do one. Hehehehehehehe...**


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